


drawing conclusions

by idahopotato



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Attempt at Humor, Blood Drinking, Crushes, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Horny Boys!, Human Mark Lee (NCT), Lowkey!, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is a Mess, Nakamoto Yuta is a Little Shit, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Sponsored by Red Bull, Oblivious Mark Lee (NCT), Pining, Praise Kink, Vampire Nakamoto Yuta, besties for the resties, friends to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idahopotato/pseuds/idahopotato
Summary: Currently:Mark inhales, exhales. Reflects, decides.“You can feed from me.” He says, resolute to the point where even he’s surprised at himself, and by the looks of it, he’s not the only one: Yuta’s gaze bursts with red for a moment before it returns to its previous copper.A nervous giggle bubbles from Mark’s throat before he can stop it. “Too forward?”(Or: Mark likes tothinkhe’s good at handling surprises. Nothing could’ve prepared him for tonight though.)
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 45
Kudos: 285





	drawing conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> cries.... i tried to get this sucker out before october aka **YUTA MONTH(!!!!!!!)** [confetti pops] ended because this was just an excuse to write him as a vampire (ALSO, game to see how many pop culture references i could smush in one fic, GO!), but alas, my brain/the world doesn’t always work in my favor.
> 
> but! i am glad to be back in my favorite tag this is my home lmao hope y’all enjoy this mess 
> 
> \+ tw for blood drinking (it’s nothing too descriptive though)

Mark likes to _think_ he’s got thick skin, that he’s good at handling surprises—he often _prides_ himself on the fact: alone at night, watching an old horror film off 123Movies with far too many jumpscares? Doesn’t even flinch. Looking at the bill after trying out a new Vietnamese restaurant and their overpriced but _really fucking delicious_ Pho? Not a single eyelash batted—so, it really wasn’t much to think about when Yuta asked if he wanted to move off campus with him. 

Probably one of the easiest things for Mark to agree to as well honestly, seeing how quickly they’d hit it off once introduced by a mutual friend, only to find themselves practically attached at the hip after quite literally running into each other in the bathroom of an annual Comic-Con convention (Yuta likes to call it fate, Mark sticks with indigestion). 

It really wasn’t much of a surprise to their friends either when Mark broke the news, Doyoung having managed to butter the landlord of his complex up enough (god knows how, Mark is still quite certain she’s hexed him at least once, believes it to this day) to secure them a room, lowered rent, and a little bit of mercy, because Mark’s measly McDonald’s salary can only do so much even in the best of times. Yuta doesn’t seem to mind though. 

“It was about fucking time,” Johnny had grumbled from where he sat spread eagle on the couch. It was tradition, all of them getting together for Hell’s Kitchen reruns and stimulating conversation over Smirnoffs, and with that night being their last on campus, Johnny was a weird mixture of sad/buzzed/pouty and ready to let everyone in the room know. But his well-wishing sentiments were kind of getting harder for Mark to hear over Gordon Ramsay as dinner service progressed. 

“Say again?” 

“I _said_ , I’m glad you’re leaving. I was getting tired of seeing you two all gross and shit.” Johnny continued, thinking for a moment, “Actually not you, just Yuta. I can’t believe the hellion’s gonna have you all to himself now.” Johnny threw back his cooler, and Mark guessed (read: hoped) he was done now, a high flush making its presence known on his cheeks. Of course, it was _just_ his luck that somehow someone so big bodied and big mouthed could get drunk on something so low content. 

His prayers were ultimately ignored. “This is _soooo_ suspicious, and Mark you’re _waaaay_ too sweet and kind and naïve but that’s what’s so cute about you and I love ya’ bro and want only the best for you, cus’ I bet this is all part of his evil plot to get in your pan—” 

Yuta had hissed then, _fucking hissed_ —fangs bared, eyes flashing, the whole shebang—from his spot and that had promptly shut everyone up, Johnny of course included, and Mark had never wished to disappear more, just full on Infinity War out of there. 

“Well.” Taeyong had huffed, breaking the silence, and then everyone laughed, and then any tension had disappeared so quickly that Mark almost got whiplash because _what the hell?_

“Dude, what was he _talking_ about?” Mark whispered to Yuta, a bit later after everyone got bored and Kunhang suggested they put on Shrek (2001) as a joke but now everyone was biting their nails in anticipation as they watched Shrek and Donkey cross the bridge to the Dragon’s Castle and Mark found this perfect time to ask what the fuck just went down. 

Yuta had only shrugged, well, as much as he could from where he had taken it upon himself to curl up and burrow his head in Mark’s stomach, not even bothering to look up as he answered.  
“Who knows?” 

So yeah, nothing too out of the ordinary, nothing Mark can’t deal with; he’s _thick-skinned, tough, hard-boiled_ , etc, etc. Living with a vampire does have its perks though, most definitely, as Mark really only shops for one now, his grocery list often concerningly short besides the occasional energy drink pack Yuta requests (his credit score has never been higher!). Plus, if Mark was really in a penny pinch, he could just, y’know, turn off the AC and glue himself to Yuta for a while. He knows the other wouldn’t mind. 

It’s also oddly domestic, and by their third week in, Yuta’s already making him pancakes (despite not eating himself) before his morning classes like it’s the most normal thing to do for your best bro of three and a half years. And you see, Mark doesn’t even question it, because like most creatures his kind, Yuta’s a homebody, something Mark came to figure out during his many midnight ponderings; what else would you call it if Yuta truly only left home for classes and small get-togethers with their friends? It never hurts to learn more about a person, especially if you’re close, right? The dots are slowly, but surely, starting to connect in Mark’s brain and he’s pleased as punch. 

Which is why he can literally feel himself deflating tonight, a _Sunday_ night to be exact, as he stares at his computer screen in front of him. He’s gotten so far as to write only the title and maybe 1,500 words to his paper on _The Complexities of Galant Style Composition_ , (which, mind you, is already horrible enough with how little Mark happens to know or care about the works of Boismortier and other dead old guys, even more so seeing as this counts for forty percent of his grade and it’s due in class tomorrow morning) but is quickly falling fate to night’s evil clutches, his sleep addled brain making it hard to do anything but watch helplessly as the bullshit stew of words he’s somehow managed to type fuse into some sort of demonic looking scripture— _yeah_ , he needs another Red Bull. 

But all this, and it’s not even near the root of Mark’s dilemma. 

For once, it’s quiet in the apartment, none of Yuta’s low humming as he putters around the kitchen, no sounds of the newest anime intro blasting obnoxiously loud through his earbuds until Mark concedes and they watch it together on the TV, _nothing_ , none on the sort. And it’s been like this for a couple days now, with Yuta giving him the cold shoulder and avoiding Mark like some super crazy plague that could somehow kill the undead; Mark can count the hours of sleep he’s gotten these past few nights on his two hands, too busy spent worrying over the things he could’ve said to somehow offend his roommate, who seemingly evaporates into thin air (can vampires even do that? It seems so!) every time Mark so much as steps into the room. 

Even tonight, _gone_ , without so much a text in forewarning; _Yangyang_ had to be the one to tell Mark where Yuta was, and according to him, _they_ were at some club (which under any other circumstances would hurt because Mark is currently shriveling up like a California raisin in the blue light of his computer, contemplating dropping out, and really fucking misses his best friend who’s recently discovered a talent in ghosting him, all the while his crew are out living it up, but these are not just any normal circumstances and now Mark’s getting a little peeved) and that Yuta is doing just fine and said he “ _needed to get out_ ”, and wow, double kill! 

That was maybe about three hours ago, and that’s if Mark’s being generous because now it’s inching closer to witching hour with each second Mark spends dwelling on his detached roommate instead of finishing his paper and _gosh_ , he just needs to wrap this up and get some well-deserved sleep. 

And if going from point A to point B as in Bed means uprooting himself from the couch, taking a quick stretch break (alternatively: ignoring what sounds like all two hundred and six of his bones cracking at the same time), and heading over to kitchen to load up on enough caffeine to have his liver crying, then he is all too willing. 

It’s golden, Mark’s plan for success, yet it only seems like the Big Man above has aimed his life towards a more downward trajectory because... there’s nothing there. Nothing in the fridge besides some moldy leftover hummus Jaehyun brought over a couple weeks ago that hasn’t been touched since. It’s empty. Alone, desolate, forgotten. 

_Just like you_ , the voice in his head provides before Mark’s quickly going on a speedrun through all five stages of grief, suddenly more alive than he’s been all day as he runs out into the living room and actually becomes aware enough to count the remaining seven (!) cans of Yuta’s 24 Pack of Red Bull, guzzled of all they’re worth and strewn about the floor like evidence of gruesome crime scene and this is _so_ bad because that’s definitely his own heartbeat Mark hears in his ears and it’s working a little _too_ efficiently and— _wait_ , maybe this is why? 

Maybe this is why Yuta’s been avoiding him, leaving Mark on a perpetual state of read: he’s finally gotten tired of Mark getting into/using his stuff (?). Yeah, that must be it. Though, it didn’t seem to be a problem before and is plenty unlike him since it’s often a hot topic of their friends on how Yuta is sometimes _too_ forgiving in all things Mark-related, but people change, honeymoon phases die off... Mark is all too aware he’s grasping for straws at this point, jumping to conclusions, but his mind is running a mile a minute and it’s all he can even begin to put together right now, he’s _desperate_. 

What’s blaringly obvious though is that he’s a horrible roommate, like big neon arrow obvious and it’s just, like, _pointing_ at him, and the weight of his guilt is just crushing to Mark’s spirit because the last thing he would want is for Yuta to think he’s taking advantage of him. 

So, the only possible thing left to do is make amends, and if that means walking to the nearest 7/11 in his pajamas to stock up on the Yellow Edition like he’s training for an Esports event (or it’s the apocalypse), then so be it. 

Mark’s managed to clean up while wrestling on his shoes in record time, and he’s less than a foot away from the front door when the sound of his phone (he’s somehow forgotten) going off in his room has him stumbling after it, and call him a wishful thinker, call it a false sense of hope, but Mark likes to think he knows who it is. 

“...Taeyong?” He tries not to sound disappointed. 

“Yes! _Mark?_ ” His voice is loud, nearly biting off the end of Mark’s question and he distantly registers what sounds like the heavy bass of music through the line. “Have you been up?” 

Mark doesn’t even attempt to will away a yawn in response. 

“Yup,” He says, popping the p, “Hey, I’m actually in a rush right now, what did you—” 

“Oh thank goodness, listen, did Yuta happen to come home yet? We can’t find him here anymore.” Taeyong sounds stressed, which already starting to do less than stellar things to Mark’s heightened blood pressure. He feels something ugly bubble within his belly. 

“No, he hasn’t. Is everything alright?” 

Taeyong sighs. “That’s the thing, after we eventually realized he came here... _hungry_ , he was already gone. It really wouldn’t be good if he’s on the streets right now, I don’t think Yuta would necessarily do anything, but still.” Taeyong sighs again, sounding pretty miserable for person supposedly painting the town red. “I don’t know what he was thinking though, _please_ tell me you have blood bags stored somewhere?” 

Mark nods, then wearily reminds himself that Taeyong, in fact, cannot see him through the phone. “I think so, I’d have to check.” 

“Okay, good.” He sounds like he’s mere seconds from a mild conniption. “Just, can you wait it out a few more minutes? Things could get bad if he doesn’t show up—wait, are you guys fighting or something? Yuta doesn’t really leave to go anywhere without you coming along as well, it was kind of weird seeing him by himself.” 

“I really couldn’t tell you, dude.” Mark doesn’t need another reminder of his villain origin story; he can feel himself greying just at the thought of it. 

Taeyong just full on groans this time. “We’ll have to search if there’s no sign of him. Otherwise, just make sure he feeds, but like, try to keep your distance. Again, I don’t think he’d do anything, but... you know what it’s like being hangry? Double, no, triple that. That’s what it’s like for a vampire.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks Taeyong, I should—” 

The sound of keys jingling has Mark freezing mid-sentence, brain excusing itself for a minute before he’s graciously yanked back to this cruel world by his friend. “Mark?” 

“Yeah, yup! I think that’s him, I think Yuta’s here. That’s good, right?” _It’s not good, it’s not good._ “I should go, uh, greet him?” 

Taeyong hums encouragingly. “Yeah, text me.” 

And once again, Mark is being left with his alone with his harrowing thoughts, only this time he’s somehow manifested them into a dark reality. He breathes in, then out. _I got this._

Mark makes sure to keep his steps light as he tip-toes down the hallway, and thinks he might have succeeded in keeping it incognito; from what Mark sees from where he peeks around a corner, Yuta sits painfully hunched over on the couch, breathing labored and looking quite unblissfully unaware of his presence. 

_“Mark.”_

He stands corrected. 

It’s been a while since he’s last gotten a good look at Yuta outside of brief flashes in his periphery, so he’s taken aback when said man sits up; he’s not done rampant research, but Mark does have an inkling about what Yuta’s eyes turning a bright copper color means, and the other’s grip on the arm of the couch being notably tight is also pretty telling. 

“What are you doing still up? Don’t you have class tomorrow?” 

Always the doting type, but Yuta’s uncharacteristic terseness has him bristling and biting down the _I could ask you the same thing_ he feels arise in his throat—but then again, it doesn’t really apply to creatures of the night, so he sticks with narrowing his eyes. 

“I was working on my paper,” Mark huffs, even crossing his arms for dramatic effect, “And dude, we need to talk.” 

If Yuta visibly recoils at either those words or Mark taking a step forward, he couldn’t tell you, but Mark’s _thick-skinned_ , _tough_ , _stubborn (!)_ if anything, so he’s not stopping until he’s gotten to the bottom of this and closing in on where Yuta looks as if he’s just ran a marathon. 

“L-Listen, Mark I can’t—” He inhales sharply, pushing a hand out while the other covers his nose. “I can’t be around you like this, I haven’t fed in a week, please—” 

Mark freezes mid-forward assault. “Wait, _what?_ ” 

Yuta exhales shakily. “Yeah, my m-monthly shipment from the donor bank, it got lost somewhere along the way, a-and it’s not going to be here until Wednesday.” By this point, Yuta is panting like a bull, tremors wracking his body from where he looks so small squeezing himself into corner of the couch, and just like that, the bubble bursts: Yuta’s not been avoiding Mark, but rather, protecting him. _From himself_ , Mark notes (with an audible gasp that has Yuta flinching), and here he’s been all selfish, while Yuta only had his best interests in mind and no, this is a whole new level of r/badroommates, Mark needs to pack his bags _now_ — 

“And a Red Bull can only stave off m-my thirst for so long.” 

And there it is, that cursed drink again. Only, there’s no more of it because of him, and no blood bags either. What a night! 

Mark inhales, exhales. Reflects, decides. 

“You can feed from me.” He says, resolute to the point where even he’s surprised at himself, and by the looks of it, he’s not the only one: Yuta’s gaze bursts with red for a moment before it returns to its previous copper. 

A nervous giggle bubbles from Mark’s throat before he can stop it. “Too forward? How about ‘ _you can indulge on my_ ’—” 

“ _Mark._ ” Yuta breathes, his eyes flaming the more Mark babbles on, still shaking but now he’s starting to look less like an underfed cat left out in the rain and more like puma with how he’s currently sizing up Mark like he wants to eat him whole, _which wouldn’t be too far from reality_ , Mark guesses. “You know I can’t do that, what if I hurt you?” 

“I know you won’t Yuta, you haven’t ever.” His voice breaks near the end and a piece of his soul goes down with it because he’s trying to sound assured, but he’s just _embarrassed_ now. “B-Besides I want you... to. Yeah.” He finishes lamely, five seconds from just, like, booking it on out of there the longer Yuta continues to stare at him, gaze burning and eyebrows furrowed in contemplation; but then he’s running a hand down his face, throwing his head back before he’s meeting Mark’s eyes again, only now they’re replaced with something softer as he beckons for him. 

Gently, “Then come, I won’t make you.” 

_It’s a test (!)_ , Mark realizes, the final boss to see if he’s truly willing, and while he’d like to think he’s passed with flying colors, he’s not too sure with the way he hobbles over, much like that one random video that showed up in his feed of a baby giraffe taking its first steps. 

But then he’s made it, plopping down close enough to maintain a comfortable biting distance, but still keeping in mind this is his _best friend_ here, and there are _appropriate limits_ that should be in place. 

But then Yuta just looks at him. And consequently, they’re looking at each other. And then it dawns on Mark that this is real and happening and his heart is beating in double time. 

“Mark.” And then there’s a cold quivering hand on his cheek, Yuta’s thumb smoothing the skin there. “You tell me to stop if it’s ever too much, got it?” 

“I got it dude, I got it. Go crazy.” 

Mark’s eyes snap closed once he says his peace though, expecting Yuta to just, y’know, _go at it_ ; instead, he’s met with those same cold quivering hands as they both cup his face, and suddenly Yuta’s sweeping his thumbs across his eyelids, then his nose, then his lips as if he wants to commit this to memory, commit _Mark_ to memory, pausing only to pull at seam of Mark’s bottom lip before he’s continuing his path downwards. 

Honestly, Mark wishes there was a pillow in close proximity for him to scream into. By this point, Yuta’s hands have gradually become less quivering (still cold) and more like _determined_ to make Mark’s life harder than it already is because they’re nothing but tender as they dedicate the next five minutes to smoothing down his neck, slowly trailing down his chest and only to make their way back up, then down again. 

“... Dude?” Mark chances a look, peeking only through one of his eyes, and he’s glad because the sight of Yuta not even sparing him a glance as he strokes the skin of his arms is making his mind go fuzzy. 

“Hm?” Yuta hums, otherwise distracted. If Mark’s releasing air like a balloon when their eyes finally lock once more, Yuta spares him his usual teasing; his own eyes hooded red and teeming with something Mark doesn’t even want to begin to unpack and suddenly there’s a soft tugging on his sleeve. “Mark... can I take this off? I don’t want anything getting on it.” 

It’s his night shirt, a faded 1D (hell yeah) tee that’s withstood the elements back in Mark’s groupie days, and in all honesty, Mark wouldn’t give two damns if something got on it anymore, but it’s Yuta, and what he says makes logical sense, and who’s Mark to deny that solid argumentation? The man’s got like, two PhDs or something. 

Only, it’s _Yuta_ , and _nothing_ can reasonably explain why Mark feels super-duper settled when his cool palms reattach to his skin. 

“Your heart is beating so fast.” Yuta supplies, awed, with a lone palm resting over his chest like Mark isn’t well aware. 

“S-shut up—” Mark groans, or at least tries to, the last bit getting stuck in his windpipe when Yuta starts moving his hands again, only it’s different now because there’s no cotton barrier and Mark’s getting the jitters. Because, _what the fuck?_ It feels _good_ , something about the way Yuta looks so overwhelmed essentially groping him sending Mark’s brain into overdrive, the light trace of fingertips to his hipbones then the chilled curl around his shoulders oddly making for the beginnings of heat trickle down his spine. 

Through the haze, he distantly realizes that he’s somehow lost feeling in his arms while they’ve dangled uselessly at his sides, so like any normal person would, Mark decides to put the limbs he was blessed with to good use! Just to test the waters, they wind about Yuta’s neck, and a pleased noise leaves said man, and Mark decides he likes the sound, so he pulls at the hair at the base of Yuta’s neck the way he knows the other likes it (it’s usually not in situations like this though). 

And maybe that was the wrong thing to do right now? Some odd mix of a snarl and a groan has Mark jolting away, but then Yuta’s drawing him back _in_ , nails a little rougher as they carve patterns into his ribs in warning and Mark is having to gasp back noises. 

A hoarse “Mark, I—” is all he can make out before there’s hot breath against his throat, and Mark freezes. Squeezes his eyes shut again. _It’s time. Took a little while, but it’s time. There’s no going back now._

So, it’s a bit anticlimactic when Yuta just stills, a very audible inhale and exhale and inhale again against where he’s gotten comfortable in the spot between Mark’s neck and shoulder. He’s not even _saying_ anything, just quite literally dragging his nose up and down the line of Mark’s throat, which makes this so much more unbearable because Mark really doesn’t need anything else to find weirdly enjoyable, but this move is admittedly the hottest thing to happen to him in a while. 

They’re travelling towards dangerous territory, and _fast_ , and Mark _needs_ to pump the brakes before he reaches the bone zone; opening his mouth to question what exactly is happening right now, but his brain and spoken language skills are immediately calling it quits once Yuta straight up laves at the skin of his pulse point, simultaneously clawing at Mark’s chest like he wants to leave himself there. 

“Dude, wha— _o-oh._ ” Mark’s jumps at the feeling of fingers brushing his nipples, his hips jerking unconsciously. “Oh god.” 

“Shit, Mark.” Yuta moans high in his throat, and Mark can feel him panting against his shoulder, can feel his pointy teeth occasionally drag against him before Yuta’s pulling back. “Fuck, fuck, _Mark_ , can I kiss you?” 

It should be so validating, seeing as he’s never seen Yuta look so desperate for anything until now, and that his own name is probably a top contender in Yuta’s list of Most Used Words Tonight, but it’s only _mortifying_ , because Mark’s nodding his head so fast it’s like he wants to lose it. 

“Yes, yes, oh my _god._ ” He doesn’t even have time to dwell on the fact that he sounds like some porn star, much less that he’s agreeing, Yuta’s eyes flashing red once more before he finds himself pushed flat against the couch, an almost crazed looking man on top of him. 

Mark imagines that this is probably not a good look for him either, as he’s likely cross eyed from how close Yuta rests atop him, their breaths molding and chests shaking, but Yuta doesn’t seem to mind; especially evident by how quickly he’s breaking the distance, and Mark’s closing his eyes again, but this time he’s got his lips pursed, he’s _ready._ Oh, how he’s ready. 

He’s met with that cold, quivering hand once again though as it cups his head, a soft kiss dusted across his forehead, then to the rise of his cheekbone, then to the tip of his nose, so delicately, like he’s the most precious thing. Something in Mark’s chest breaks into a million tiny little pieces, and he whimpers at the feeling, pulling limply at the collar of Yuta’s shirt so they’re looking into each other’s eyes once more and Mark is about to break down. 

It’s a good thing Yuta’s there to hold him together. 

Their lips meet when they both surge forward, like some astronomical collision of teeth and tongue and more teeth because Yuta accidentally nips at Mark’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but it’s okay, _more than okay_ because he’s kissing the sting away before licking wetly into Mark’s mouth, curling a cool hand into Mark’s hair. Then he tugs, tilting Mark’s head to deepen the kiss, their bodies perfectly snug in a chilled heat at Yuta’s insistence, leaving no room for air even (which isn’t much of a problem for him) and Mark’s gone, he’s so so gone. He doesn’t even know why he’s here anymore, what he was doing before this, he’s just floating in a pathetic puddle of himself. He only momentarily realizes he’s still got his shoes on. 

“Mark, _baby_ ,” Yuta rasps, nuzzling against his cheek as he allows them both a break for oxygen, and Mark feels hot all over at the pet name. “Fuck, are you okay? Breathe.” 

“M-more.” He says eloquently, because him and his voice aren’t the best of friends right now. Yuta lets out something akin to a pained noise at the request and it’s then that Mark decides that he will be capitalizing on every single one Yuta has to offer him. “Please.” 

Yuta’s on his mouth again in an instant, pitching forward with the speed of a madman, collecting Mark in his arms with a groan. Mark can only hold on tight and make his pretty little noises at this point, because they’re so close and with every slight shift they’re pressing up against each other in just the right ways, and _fuck_ , he’s never been so turned-on in his life. 

He’s having to physically restrain himself from humping Yuta’s thigh like a dog from where it rests between his legs, silently apologizing for the man he’s about to become in a few minutes because things are not looking too good with each clash of teeth and tongue, every sound pulled out of him gobbled up with spit slick lips. 

“I, _Yuta_ , fuck—I can’t,” Mark arches up at the same time Yuta shifts, rolling his hips down, down, _down_ , somehow understanding the incessant babbling spilling from his lips, and Mark is two seconds from straight up crying. “O-oh, jesus, holy shit.” 

“Mark, angel, _baby_ ,” Yuta sighs breathlessly, and Mark whines as his hips rock ceaselessly into his own, “Can I touch you? Do you want me to touch you?” 

Mark’s brain has taken a one-way flight to like Australia or something at the question, so he’s left mouthing like a fish out of water until he’s gathering enough wits to cry out a _yes, yes, yes,_ and then Yuta’s kissing him again, a hand working at his basketball shorts. 

Yuta gasps when his sharp fingers slither past Mark’s waistline; Mark’s old habits dying exceedingly hard because _of course_ it’s tonight that he’s gone commando. 

“ _God_ , you’re so...” Yuta groans, at a loss for words, panting into Mark’s mouth, “Wanna eat you up,” Mark sobs. “You’re so _good._ ” 

And ding ding, lightning round! Mark knows this is going to be so _so_ embarrassingly short and horrible for his pride, but he doesn’t even care. Especially when Yuta’s murmuring sweet things in his ear, groaning loudly when he finally touches Mark, his cold palm somehow _searing_ when it wraps around his dick, and Mark’s leaking so much and Yuta hasn’t even moved yet, oh god. 

“Please, please, please,” It’s pretty much all he can say anymore, he’s so gone. Yuta must take pity, nosing at Mark’s neck before he’s twisting his wrist, a rough drag of fingers because they’re going at it dry, but then he’s stroking up towards the head, palming at the sticky mess of Mark’s precum so it’s a smoother trip back down to the base and back up again. Mark whimpers at the feeling, planting a foot on the couch before he can even think twice about what he’s doing and thrusting upwards into Yuta’s hand, and said man moans at the sight, nostrils flaring. 

“There you go, baby. Look at you.” His fingertips twirl at the head of Mark’s cock in a playful dance, collecting more precum that pathetically spills out the more Yuta calls him baby, and Mark’s so _so_ gone, there’s no coming back from this. “Wanna make you mine... keep you all to myself.” 

“F- _fuck_ , dude.” Mark’s hips stutter pitifully at the admission. It’s not every day that your bro kinda sorta confesses to you with their hand wound tight around your dick, but it’s nothing to complain about. “D-don’t stop, _please_.” 

“You feeling good?” Yuta inches closer, and Mark can feel his grin from where he licks a wet stripe up the vein in his neck. “I can smell it on you. So pretty, and all for me.” 

This is the best night (day) of Mark’s life, but it’s also the last, for sure. 

“Oh god,” Mark can only cry and start thrusting erratically into Yuta’s palm but also throw his arms tight about his neck because he’s done for, he’s so _close._

“M-me too, baby.” Yuta gasps, to which Mark registers that his brain to mouth filter must’ve cut itself off, rendering him functionally useless, to which he also notices a nudging against his leg, to which he belatedly realizes that Yuta’s hard and must’ve been rutting against him this whole time, to which he actually starts tearing up. Mark fumbles as he pulls Yuta down for a parting kiss because these are definitely his final moments on earth, right at the same time Yuta’s cold and deft and tight hand starts pumping him like it’s a talent and he’s trying to win The X Factor (Golden Buzzer and all), and it’s with his sharp and pointy teeth flashing with a moan that Mark distantly remembers what all this was for. 

“Fuck Yuta, you can bite me, bite me now, _hurry_ ,” Yuta whimpers at the words, rubbing his face into the crook of Mark’s neck, hips stuttering against Mark’s leg. 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah, c’mon, do it please.” 

The soft pressure of lips to his throat is something he’s become he’s become well acquainted with over the last hour, but the slight prick to his skin has Mark screwing his eyes shut. Yuta sees to this though, his grip quickening as he pierces the flesh cleanly, and Mark expects it to hurt, he really does, but instead he’s swamped by a warm gentle feeling, and while it’s jarring to his senses, it’s _nice_. Intimate. It also doesn’t help that Yuta’s returned to making his soft sounds since his mouth is occupied, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his free hand digging into Mark’s bare ass for leverage. 

“I can’t—I _can’t_ —” All too soon, Mark’s seeing black dots, but for other reasons because Yuta is still sensible in how much he drinks, but his hand hasn’t let up and Mark’s left pounding on his shoulder to try and warn him that he’s gonna cum all over his hand if he doesn’t move it _now_ , but suddenly there’s a cold sneaky finger dipping down and circling dryly around his hole and Mark’s done. 

He goes rigid, locking up with his mouth open wide in a silent scream while Yuta cries against his neck, full body trembling before he stills, eventually loosening his jaw and pulling his teeth away. They kinda just melt into each other, Mark coming to terms with his new identity as human pudding, trying to blink away all the red and blue and yellow spotting his vision but failing miserably, while Yuta laps lazily at the puncture marks, looking perfectly contented. Mark wants to cry/die/stay here forever. 

“Dude...” Mark rasps, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “Did you...?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Yuta murmurs without bite. He places his forehead on Mark’s, a grin of his own appearing. “You did so well, tasted so damn good. Sweet.” He licks his lips, and Mark briefly wonders if that has something to do with his warped sugar to blood ratio. Yuta’s wicked giggles stop that thought from leaving the station though. 

“Besides, you’re one to talk.” He draws his sticky hand up from where it was still inside Mark’s shorts, red eyes burning bright. Then, like an evil snake, he flicks his tongue out and drags it up the line of his palm, never breaking eye contact as he swallows, and that’s curtains! Show’s over! The crowd goes wild! 

Mark’s seeing black before he can even think about getting hard again, but that’s okay, but then he realizes he was kinda in the middle of something before the events that just transpired, but that’s okay as well because he and Yuta came out of this ordeal stronger and closer (!) than ever before, and now he can finally catch up on his sleep. 

“Mark?”

  
  


~ 

  
  


Mark unscrews his eyes only after he’s hit snooze twice. Becoming one with his body again, he’s immediately met with the bombardment of at least fifty texts from Taeyong (which he leaves for when he’s more awake), a picture from his mom of a random squirrel and a “ _this reminded me of you_ 😘” (which he makes sure to heart), and a neat stack of printed paper on his nightstand. 

Upon further inspection, Mark comes to figure out it’s the rest of his paper, typed out and finished off nicely with a pink sticky note of “ _thank you 4 last night♡ xoxo_ ” on top, but also that he’s back in his room, in his bed, shoeless, and feeling peachy. Like there’s a weight off his shoulders, but now it’s been quickly replaced with something more real, something more pointy and person shaped. And it’s definitely not unwelcomed. Mark’s heart skips a beat as he plays with the corner of the sticky note. 

_Uh-oh._

All this and it’s only 9 a.m. on a Monday. 

Mark picks up his phone again. Stealthily avoids the barrage of texts coming from a worried groupchat now and scrolls through Instagram for a while until he gets bored. Closes his eyes. Inhales, exhales. Reflects, and says fuck it, because he’s a hopeless sad single bisexual before he’s human, and still a bit groggy, so his fingers are moving before the little voice of reason in his head (the one that sounds like an odd mix of Judge Judy and Taeyong) can rule against it. 

**me**  
[9:16 AM]  
u wanna do that again sometime 

The response is too fast to be funny.

**yuta** 💯🙀  
[9:16 AM]  
fuck 

  
  
  
Mark saves exactly $49.90 dollars on groceries that week.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> … just trying to make up for lack of vampire yuta in the tag (jay if u see this, ur a god) this was my first disaster fic, pls forgive me but also pls tell me your thoughts!ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ 
> 
> i would actually LOVE to write a second part because this was super duper fun to write but until then... much love <3 please stay safe and happy and healthy my friends!
> 
> [black lives matter](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co)   
>  [end femicide](https://supportwomen.carrd.co/)   
>  [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/potatles)
> 
> edit: and my curiouscat! [@potatles](https://curiouscat.qa/potatles) (if you want to say hi! >< i had to make a new one oopsies...) 
> 
> -chloe


End file.
